Babysitting at Baker Street
by Shelly Lane
Summary: Although neither Basil nor Dawson is overly fond of the idea, they end up having to babysit Dawson's nieces and nephews. (The narrator is one of the nephews.) Disney, Doyle, and Titus own everything. Some chapters inspired by Brekclub85. One chapter mentions snow in the Sahara; yes, this did really happen once (albeit years after this story takes place).
1. Arrival at Baker Street

**Arrival at Baker Street**

As soon as we had finished supper, Mother announced that we were going to Baker Street to visit Uncle David. I wasn't too thrilled with the idea, especially when we arrived on the porch.

I overheard Detective Basil saying, "Now then Dawson, as Mrs. Judson is on holiday for the next fortnight, this is a most opportune time for you to learn how to throw knives properly."

"Knives, Basil?"

"Of course, my dear fellow! If you're to accompany me when I go undercover to work cases, you must learn to handle weapons with ease. Besides, you've had military training, not to mention all the years you've used a scalpel. I fail to see how tossing knives would present any manner of challenge."

Mother rapped on the door. "Oh, David? Could we come in?"

"Grasp the knife in this manner," Mr. Basil was explaining, "angle your arm thus…"

Mother beat the door with greater strength and more rapidly. "DAVID QUEMUS DAWSON! LET US IN BEFORE I BREAK DOWN THE DOOR!"

Uncle David opened the door. "How wonderful to see you and the children, Lenora."

Stepping inside, Mother frowned. "Your housekeeper hasn't been gone a full day, and the whole flat already looks like a rat's nest!"

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I'll make it brief, Hippo." Mother crossed her arms in front of her. "I have a seminar to attend. My train leaves in two hours, so you're watching the children."

"Ordinarily, I'd be delighted, but we do have our own schedules to maintain," Uncle David answered.

"Yes," Mother muttered sarcastically. "Playing with knives must surely take hours."

Uncle David frowned.

"My husband will be working at his office for hours at a time, so I can't just leave the children at home. Simon's out of town, Meta has her own children, Corine's busy planning for her wedding, and thanks to Basil's childhood friend, I can't ask Daniel!"

"Alright, Lenora. Basil and I will watch the children, but as you seem to disapprove of our housekeeping, you'll have to come in and clean for us the next time Mrs. Judson is on holiday."

Mother didn't look happy, but she seemed to have no choice. "Fine! I brought some things they'll be needing. The suitcases are on the porch."

She gave Uncle David and Mr. Basil a long speech about how they were to take _excellent_ care of us. Then she handed Uncle David twenty page of rules. Afterwards, she reminded us children how to find the police station and not to touch anything that was sharp or could explode and to go to bed at a decent hour and all kinds of advice like that.

Finally, she concluded her speech with, "And remember, if you have any problems at all, feel free to ask somebody else. Uncle David would just make it worse."

With that, she left.

"What did you say was her occupation?" Mr. Basil asked.

"She works with troubled rodents to help them overcome hard times in their life."

The investigator frowned. "She gives counseling?!"

"Yes," Uncle David answered. "She's quite good at it, very gentle and patient with her clients."

The sleuth mashed his lips together tightly, as if trying hard not to laugh. After a few seconds, he became more serious, declaring that his sister would never be so irksome.

My younger brother, Jesse, tugged on Uncle David's sleeves. "Why did Mum call you 'Hippo'?"

"It's short for 'Hippocrates,'" he explained.

"Mother says it's short for 'hippopotamus' because you could stand to lose half your body weight!" retorted my older sister, Danielle. "Is it true that you don't believe in using anesthesia?"

"Or that you clean wounds with lemon juice?" I added.

Uncle David frowned slightly. "Why would you ask that? Do you have a cut?"

"No!" I responded quickly, remembering how Mother had said not to trust him with our health.

Rena, my baby sister, was crawling around the floor, looking for something to put into her mouth. She finally started chewing on a violin bow.

"Give me that!" Mr. Basil demanded, snatching it from her.

Rena started crying and refused to be comforted.

Danielle rolled her eyes. "You have to give her a toy or something to shut her up."

I handed Rena her favorite doll, and the noise ceased.

"It's time to start baths," Uncle David stated. "Then we'll get ready for bed."

Danielle took her bath first since she was the oldest child. While I was waiting for my turn, I searched for toys or something else to keep myself amused. I didn't find any jacks or marbles, but I did find a black bag. When I opened it, I found a few interesting things: some pills, a few bandages, a couple bottles of liquid, a syringe, a pair of gloves, some pieces of metal, and a…stevedore?…stertorous?…one of those things that doctors use to hear your heart.

I didn't have any idea what to do with all that stuff until I noticed that there was a chemistry set in the room. I dumped the bottles of liquid and the pills into the beakers to see if they would mix with the chemicals and explode. There was no explosion, but the liquid in one of the beakers changed colors and started to fizz. Then it overflowed all over the table. Some even ran down to the floor, covering the gloves that I had accidentally dropped and staining the carpet.

Remembering a story about a mad scientist who once made something so strong that it dissolved the spoon that he used to mix it, I decided to see if anything in the beakers would do the same, so I put the metal tools from the black bag into it.

Taking the syringe, I carefully filled it full of the fizzing liquid and put the end of the syringe into the soil that surrounded one of the house plants. I wanted to see if the plant would come to life and start eating mice, like the one I once read about in a library book. Regrettably, nothing happened. The plant started to wither after a few minutes, but that was it. This had to be the most **BORING **game in history!

Since science had been a major disappointment, I decided to decorate instead. I started unrolling the bandages and hanging them on the windowsill. I tried hanging them from the mantel, but they were too long. They caught on fire, so I had to throw them into the fireplace to keep the flat from burning to the ground.

Getting an idea, I started throwing the beakers into the fire to see if it would change colors or make anything explode. Some of the chemical liquids bubbled and made strange noises in the flame, but that was it.

I was just trying to figure out what to do with the heart listening device when Mr. Basil caught me. His eyes got really wide, and he started trying to talk, but it came out as stuttering. He kept pointing at where his chemistry set used to be before I started throwing beakers into the fire, and he was breathing kind of strange. Finally, he was able to say an actual word.

"_**DAWSON!**_"

Uncle David came running. "Why, Basil, what ever is the…_WHAT IN THE NAME OF HIPPOCRATES?!"_

"I was under the impression that you specifically told me you would mind the children!" Mr. Basil scolded. "All I wished to do was enjoy my pipe, and you insisted I shouldn't smoke in the presence of juveniles, so I agreed to step outside for a moment! Did you not assure me that all would be well?!"

"I only stepped into my room for a moment. I had no idea…" Uncle David turned to me. "Have you an explanation?"

Sniffling a little, I looked at my feet. "I'm sorry, Uncle David. I just wanted to play marbles."

After a long pause, he placed his hand on my shoulder. "It's alright. I suppose I deserved this for all the times I destroyed your mother's room when I was a very young child. All is forgiven."

"Really?" I dried my eyes.

"We'll see if we can find you some marbles tomorrow," he promised.


	2. A Bedtime Story

**A Bedtime Story**

When we children were finished with our baths, Uncle David told us it was time for bed, and he would show us to the guest rooms.

"Story first!" begged Jesse. "Mum always tells us a story."

"What kind of story would you like?" Uncle David asked.

"How did you meet Defective Baker of Basil Street?"

"It's 'detective,' not 'defective'!" Danielle corrected.

Jesse looked confused. "What's the difference?"

"From what Mother says, not much."

Uncle David ignored our conversation and began his story. "It was the eve of our good queen's Diamond Jubilee, and the year Her Majesty's government came to the very brink of disaster. I had just arrived in London after lengthy service in Afghanistan and was anxious to find a quiet place, preferably dry, where I could rest and find a bit of peace. Little did I know that my life was about to change forever."

"Can you use smaller words, Uncle David?" Jesse begged. "I can't understand what you're saying."

"Of course."

Using easier vocabulary, Uncle David said that on the day before Queen Moustoria's party last June, he had just got back home from the army, and he was trying to find somewhere to live. Then he found a girl, who was about my age, crying inside a human boot in an alley. When he asked her what was wrong, she explained that she was trying to find Mr. Basil.

"Who would try to find this place on purpose?!" interrupted Jesse. "It's so boring!"

"She needed Basil's help," my uncle explained. "A bat had stolen her father."

"Why?"

"It was Basil's job to find out why and to rescue the girl's father."

"Why?"

"Because that's what detectives do. When someone loses something important, they ask a detective to find it for them. If it turns out that someone stole the object of value, the investigator makes sure that the thief goes to jail."

"Why?"

Mr. Basil nearly smiled. "Losing more of your patience, Dawson?"

"Spare me your puns!" Uncle David retorted.

"Why do they call them that anyway?" I asked.

Danielle stood akimbo, not at all pleased with my ignorance. "Call them what?"

"'Patients,'" I responded. "Why is that the word for rodents who need a doctor? Why are they 'patients' instead of 'clients' or 'customers'?"

"Because it takes _forever_!" my older sister explained. "Mother says the most hilarious joke in the history of the world is 'The doctor will be with you shortly.'"

"Then why aren't they called 'impatients'?"

"You're not supposed to be impatient! You're supposed to _like_ all that waiting."

I was puzzled. "That makes no sense."

"Neither do half the things that doctors say. For example, why do they say that something _might_ hurt? If it _might_, then that means there's a chance it might _not_. However, when doctors use that phrase, you can bet on the fact that you're about to suffer; there's not a snowball's chance in the desert that the procedure might not hurt you at all!"

"It snowed in the Sahara Desert once," I reminded her, "and Antarctica's technically a desert."

She sighed. "You get the point! Anyway, Mother also said our uncle became a surgeon because he has a cruel sense of humor and wanted an excuse to skin others alive."

Uncle David sighed. "Does your mother have nothing better to do than find problems with my profession?"

I nodded. "Sometimes she finds problems with Uncle Simon's profession, Aunt Meta's profession, and Aunt Corine's profession!"

"Does your sister always speak in a pessimistic manner?" inquired Mr. Basil.

"Only around family," Uncle David explained. "When she's by herself, with her friends, or at work, she's a very compassionate individual, gladly placing the needs of others before her own. Daniel was like that, but he acted that way around relatives as well. His main flaw was that he was a bit of a revolutionary, forever trying to find ways to encourage the citizens of Mousedom to take action."

"Against the government?"

"Not at all. Daniel was very loyal to Her Majesty and the laws of our empire. He just wasn't too thrilled with the idea that middle-class and wealthy mice were treated as true citizens while the poor and members of other species fell victim to discrimination. His idea was that all born in Mousedom should be citizens, regardless of species or economic status."

Mr. Basil's eyes rested on the rat portrait on his mantel. "Perhaps if all had been equal, the crime rate would have been lower among certain species. He would have made a fine prime minister!"

I didn't know if Mr. Basil was talking about Uncle Daniel or the rat, but Uncle David changed the subject by continuing his story about how he came to live at Baker Street.

He had helped the lost mouse girl find Mr. Basil, and the investigator told them that the bat worked for an evil rat. Uncle David and the child had gone to a human toy shop with Mr. Basil to try to find clues to catch the rat, but the bat was hiding inside the store, and he kidnapped the girl. Then Mr. Basil and Uncle David dressed in ridiculous outfits so no one would recognize them, and they found out where the rat lived. However, the rat had an ambush ready for them.

"What's an am?" I asked. "I know that roses grow on rose bushes, and blackberries grow on blackberry bushes, so what kind of bush is an ambush?"

Uncle David smiled. "An ambush isn't a type of shrub. It's just a fancy word for a trap. The rat's employees were waiting for us, and they tried to kill us, but Basil was too clever for them. He helped us escape, and he saved the girl too."

"What about the girl's father? You said the rat had him too!"

"Yes, Basil also rescued him, and the rat went to jail."

"What about Queen Moustoria?" Jesse queried. "You said her royal party almost turned into a disaster."

"The toymaker had been kidnapped to build a robot that would give the rat permission to take over the kingdom," my uncle explained. "Basil stopped the rat before he ever reached Buckingham Palace. Her Majesty was so happy that she held a special ceremony to thank the detective."

Mr. Basil was still staring at the portrait of the rat. "And after he paid his debt to society, the rat sought counseling and became a model citizen."

Uncle David placed a hand on his shoulder. "Time heals all wounds, Basil."

"I disagree, Doctor. Suppose a rather deep wound should never be tended. What then?"

"It would inflame and more than likely fester. If the victim didn't die of blood loss, he or she may very well die of the infection that set in."

"Do I misconstrue your words, or do you imply that for some wounds, even time is not a sufficient healer?"

Unsure of how to answer Mr. Basil, Uncle David told us all it was time for bed.


	3. Mr Basil's Pets

**Mr. Basil's Pets**

During breakfast the next morning, Mr. Basil suggested that we visit Toby for a while.

"But Basil!" Uncle David protested. "What of Mrs. Hudson's cat? Until last June, she was the most feared mouser in the empire!"

"Toby will ensure the children come to no harm," Mr. Basil replied nonchalantly.

After checking to make sure the humans were gone, he left us in the flat above his. As soon as Mr. Basil had gone back to his own flat, a tall, skinny cat walked over to where we were standing.

"You're really cute, but I've already had my breakfast."

My eyes widened. Was this cat really going to eat us?

"Don't be alarmed," she continued. "I know you must be surprised to hear a cat speaking, but it's only in the presence of humans and adult mice that we cats and dogs must hold our tongues. As the four of you are children, I don't mind if you know I can talk."

"If you're going to have us for a snack," Danielle began, "will you eat the baby first?" She held up Rena.

The cat scooped up our baby sister.

A dog approached. "Felicia, what are you doing?"

"This is MY baby!" The cat gently kissed Rena. "Get your own!"

"Little Basil has already gone to your head, hasn't he, 'Auntie'?" the dog joked.

Felicia smiled, not complaining at all when Rena jerked out a handful of whiskers.

The dog turned to us and explained, "Two of our mouse friends recently had their first baby. They named him after Detective Basil, and there's no convincing the cat that the child isn't her biological nephew. When they brought him to visit last week, she fell completely in love with him."

"Even the vicious sleuth hound has a soft spot."

He chuckled a little. "You have a point, cat. He is rather adorable."

"I always wanted my own kitten, someone I could train to capture felons and obey the law. I would love my child, no matter how it looked, but it would be so wonderful to have a calico!"

"I know what you mean," the dog put in. "I've often wished for my own puppy, someone to teach to sleuth." He sighed. "Being married to one's career produces no heirs."

"Nor does a criminal record. There are two kinds of cats in this world: those who eat mice and those who don't. Show me a cat who eats mice, and I'll show you a cat who will never have my respect. Show me a cat who does not eat mice, and I'll show you a cat whose respect I will never have." She cleared her throat. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Toby, it is proper etiquette to make introductions when guests arrive. I assume these children must be related to the wasted oath."

"Uh…'wasted oath'?"

"A slang term that members of the world's greatest criminal ring used for 'physician,'" the cat explained. "Ratigan never approved of doctors, claiming that they were all charlatans, but every now and then, he'd meet one who was actually intelligent and good at his job, and the rat would say, 'The Hippocratic Oath was wasted on this mouse! Had he not vowed to do no harm, he would have made a fine criminal!'"

Toby nodded. "I see. So if 'wasted oath' is the term used for a skilled physician, what do you call one who just makes the problem worse?"

"'Meddler.'"

"I should have guessed as much."

"The henchmen practically had their own dictionary of medical terminology," Felicia continued. "Antiseptic was called 'lemon juice,' and salve was referred to as 'salt.' Bartholomew used those terms a lot to fool Ratigan. When someone wanted to know what sort of antiseptic was used to clean a wound, he would ask, 'What vintage of lemon juice did you drink?' 'Friday night at the Rat Trap' meant a strong antiseptic whereas 'just a nip' meant a very mild one."

"That's interesting," the dog remarked.

"The word for 'cauterize' was 'brand' because the procedure used to be done with hot metal, coals, gunpowder, or something similar. 'Embroidery' meant that sutures of some form had to be administered. 'Chopping wood' meant a limb was injured. General anesthetic was known as 'dying in one's sleep' because of the way Ratigan executed so many of his poor victims. A bandage was known as 'the mark of shame.'"

"How do you remember all this?"

"I remember because I lived with the sewer rat and his band of Miserable Mice for…ten years? Fifteen maybe? At any rate, it was too long!"

"When someone was hurt, what was the phrase for telling them that more pain would be caused before the injury could begin to heal?"

Felicia smirked. "'This will feel like being called a rat!'"

Toby started laughing. "Oh, he would have LOVED that one!"

"Bartholomew came up with the idea."

"How many times did he use the 'r' word before he finally had to pay for it?"

The cat glared. "That's a delicate way to put it!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"I lost count," she interrupted. "He used the term whenever he wanted, but he was so clever! Until he started drinking, he was never caught, knowing when it was or wasn't safe to throw insults." After a pause, she added, "You know, I never heard him insult anyone else, just Ratigan. He didn't even insult the mice who said, 'Bartholomew Ingham, are you an idiot?! You know why the boss has a kitten, don't you?'"

"'Are you an idiot?'" Toby frowned. "What kind of a question is that?!"

"A very common one before Bartholomew fell into alcoholism. He always replied, 'I may very well be. I work for Ratigan, don't I?'"

Jesse tapped my shoulder and whispered, "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

Overhearing him, Felicia lightly smacked Toby on the shoulder. "How rude we've been! We can discuss lair life later. Right now, we have guests! These children should hear a story!"

The dog grinned. "I know a story!"


	4. Toby's Tale

**Toby's Tale**

Once upon a time, there was a runt kitten, but the good fairy blessed her with a gift. Every time she ate something, she would double in size.

At first, the kitten was content to eat prawns and fish, but soon she began eating rodents. She ate the great Basil of Baker Street for lunch, and his nemesis, Professor Ratigan, for supper.

In fact, she got so huge that she even ate a hardworking, dedicated sleuth hound named "Tobias Holmes," but the next day, she was large enough to eat the Baskerville hound."

The cat couldn't be stopped. Soon she was large enough that she began eating buildings and the humans inside. She even ate the clock tower.

Having finished eating all of London, she began eating Scotland and Ireland. However, she stopped eating the sheep because the wool kept getting caught in her throat and choking her.

Finally, the cat found herself in a dilemma. She had eaten all of Europe, and she was still hungry, continuing to grow with every meal. When she had eaten all of Africa and Asia, she began nibbling on Australia, intending to have North and South America as a second course and finish with Antarctica for dessert, but her enormous stomach exploded, and that was the end of Felicia Ratigan.


	5. The Cat's Reaction

**The Cat's Reaction**

When Toby had finished his story, Felicia's ears lowered flat against her head.

"What was that?!" she hissed. "What did you call me?!" She pounced on the dog and began smacking him. "I am NOT a Ratigan!"

He started laughing his tail off. "So you don't get offended when someone calls you a glutton, just if someone mistakes you for still being Ratigan's pet?"

"Dog, you don't deserve to live!" She let him up.

"How can I resist? Your reaction is just too priceless!"

Felicia smiled at us. "I'll tell you children a proper story."


	6. The Classic Western

**The Classic Western**

In the Wild West are many outlaws, not the least among whom was Purrfessor Muriarty. He wasn't one of those mice who paraded around in boots and drank too much. He was better than that. The "Purr" in his name showed he had dominion over cats, and the "Muri" was to remind all mice of this outlaw's muricide. He didn't need a gun. All he had to do to get what he wanted was sprinkle catnip on the clothes of whoever stood in his way.

As is common in most American folklore about their Western states, there was a new sheriff in the town. His name was Surefire Semloh, but no one in his right mind would admit to having a name like "Semloh," so he went by "Surefire Sam" instead.

It would have been easy for these two enemies to demand each other to leave the town by sunset or meet at noon for a gunfight, but they had been friends during their youth, close as brothers. How could either one directly harm the other, even if they had been enemies for years now?

Purrfessor Muriarty had a simple solution. He would hire other outlaws to kill Surefire Sam, but the sheriff was no novice at evading those who lived outside of the law. Every rodent sent to help Sam find a nice place to rest on Boot Hill ended up with a long stay behind bars, and not the kind that serves drinks.

However, even the sheriff could not catch the feared Muriarty, despite his cunning. Sam tried every trick in the book and several outside the box, and none of them worked. There was only one thing left to do: hire a bounty hunter.

The first bounty hunter ended up on the wrong end of Muriarty's gun. One bullet shattered the bones in his foot, giving him a permanent limp, and the second bullet badly injured his arm. The foot had to be amputated, but Doc was able to repair the arm. (Yes, in the tradition of nearly every Western story, the town physician simply went by "Doc.")

However, Sam started noticing something peculiar. Every time an outlaw escaped jail, he never caused trouble again. Either all these lawbreakers were changing their criminal ways, or they were mysteriously disappearing. Even the sheriff didn't have the first idea what was happening, so he decided to talk over the matter with his friend, Tobias Tex. (It's against the law to tell a Western legend without having a character named "Tex.")

When Tex heard the story, he started laughing. "You may have been visited by the town stranger. Everyone knows that when a sheriff is unable to catch the outlaw, a stranger arrives in town and saves the day."

Determined to find this stranger, the sheriff made inquiries. Unfortunately, the only information he could get was from the town drunk.

"In the desert lives a cat," the inebriate began. "All outlaws who escape from jail or from Muriarty's posse are caught and forced to serve her. She says she will eat them if they do not obey her every whim, but it's only to frighten them. She has a reputation of eating mice on command, but it's all a myth. She's never harmed anyone. When she tires of a mouse, she just brings him back to jail."

"Why does she do this?" queried Sam.

"It is a duty passed down among generations." The drunk hiccupped. "In Salem long ago, mice suspected of being witches were thrown to the first black cat the judge saw. If the mice were eaten, they were innocent. If they were rejected, they were witches, for even a black cat will not eat its master. They weren't thrown to cats with other colors of fur because everyone knows witches are only interested in owning black cats."

The sheriff dismissed this information as nothing more than a ramble from someone in a drunken stupor, but when he saw the large paw prints around the town, he began to wonder. One evening, he saw a large cat on her way out of town.

"Catch Muriarty, and I will make sure you are well fed forever," Sam offered.

The next day, Muriarty was tied up in front of the jail, along with the outlaws who had previously escaped, but no one ever saw the mysterious cat again.


	7. A Henchman Hangs

**A Henchman Hangs**

"What kind of story was that?!" Toby demanded.

"You tell them your way, and I'll tell them mine," Felicia responded.

"All that building of suspense, and your ending wasn't much better than a cliffhanger!"

"What was I supposed to tell them, Ratigan got arrested by Basil and was tried by a court of law, then sentenced to public execution, which instead of hanging was getting thrown to his own cat, and his former henchmen were the ones to throw him outside as Queen Moustoria rang the bell?"

We played hide and seek for a while. Felicia would help us hide; then Toby would try to find us. Being a sleuth hound, he was really good at it.

After our game, the dog and cat showed us photographs. One was of the cat when she was a runt kitten with blue eyes. She was smaller than a rat, and her fur stood out everywhere, making her like a little ball of fuzz. Another picture was of the dog when he was a puppy. He looked as if he were about to trip over his own ears. There were some photos of Mr. Basil's cases. One picture showed Uncle David in a striped shirt, dancing onstage with women.

When it was time for lunch, we went back downstairs.

"The last of Ratigan's henchmen will be hanged this afternoon," Mr. Basil announced. "I erred in assuming we had captured all of them last July, but now I am confident the final one will meet justice. He was apprehended only weeks ago."

"What were his crimes?" Uncle David inquired.

"Petty theft, mostly; however, the royal guards have identified him as being one of the mice who infiltrated Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee. Ergo, the charge is treason."

"What does 'hanged' mean?" I asked.

"That's something you find out when you're older," my uncle responded.

I know it was wrong, but we were very curious, so while we were supposed to be taking our nap, we managed to sneak out to watch the mouse be hanged. We left Rena at the flat because when you wake up a baby, they tend to be very loud, and that would have ruined our plan.

When we got to the place where the hanging was to happen, we saw a mouse standing on a tall platform. His hands were tied behind his back, and the crowd was watching as someone put a rope around his neck.

"They'd better be careful," Jesse whispered to me. "Otherwise, that poor mouse could choke to death!"

"Have you any last requests?" the mouse tightening the rope asked.

"May I give my wife one final kiss?" the other mouse responded.

The first mouse nodded and addressed the crowd. "Will the wife of this man please step forward?"

A woman walked onto the platform. Her eyes were red, and there were tears running down her face.

"It's alright," her husband told her. "I did wrong, and now I must be punished."

"But you changed!" she sobbed. "You didn't mean to commit treason! Your boss forced you into it! And you haven't stolen anything since before we eloped!"

"One moment!"

Everyone who recognized the voice knelt, and the queen herself stepped to the front of the crowd.

"Have I seen you before?" Her Majesty queried. "You look familiar."

The crying woman bowed. "I have never had the pleasure of meeting Your Highness, but many rodents say I resemble my brother. He was knighted during Your Majesty's Jubilee last year."

Queen Moustoria's eyes widened. "Has Sir Basil's sister married one of Professor Ratigan's henchmen?!"

"Yes, Your Majesty, and I carry his child."

There were gasps and murmurs throughout the crowd.

The queen frowned. "Sir Basil has not only saved my life, but the lives of all in Mousedom as well. It is thanks to his selfless courage and sharp wit that the empire does not rest in the hands of criminals. Is it right that we should repay him by executing his brother-in-law less than a year after he has done this for us?" After a pause, she added, "Is it right that we should allow a traitor to live and be pardoned?"

Her Highness considered the situation. Turning to the crowd, she asked if anyone would "speak on the traitor's behalf."

One of the royal guards lowered his head respectfully before answering, "Your Majesty, I will speak for him."

"Virtue!" the criminal gasped. "I was always unkind to you when we worked for the professor. Why would you do this for me?"

"I forgive you as the law has forgiven me," the guard replied. "My life is proof that given a second chance, any mouse can make something of himself, even if he used to be one of Ratigan's henchmen."

"Lemme join ya." A peg legged bat flew up to him. "I know he ain't a bad guy. Used ta be a real good thief, but stopped when he met the girl. He ain't gonna cause no trouble bein' married ta Basil's sister, 'specially not when the whole town knows 'bout it. They mighta been married in secret, but Basil's sure gonna know 'bout it now! This guy makes the slightest mistake, Basil see 'im behind bars."

"Then his pardon is granted," the queen replied.


	8. Fun and Games

******Fun and Games**

Uncle David and Mr. Basil were very upset when they found out we'd managed to sneak out during nap time. The next day, they came up with a plan to make sure we wouldn't cause any more trouble.

"We'll find games for the children," Uncle David suggested.

"Preferably pastimes that don't involve destroying what's left of my chemistry set!" agreed Mr. Basil.

Our first game was croquet.

"Do any of you know how to play?" asked Uncle David.

"Rather well!" Danielle retorted. "You see who can beat the wickets into the ground the fastest; then you throw the ball as hard as you can. After all that, you hold out the mallet while you turn in a circle as fast as you can until you're dizzy, and then you let go and see how far the mallet flies."

"Actually, you just use the mallet to hit the ball through the wickets," my uncle explained.

"That sounds boring!" complained Jesse. "We want a real game! You know, something that's fun!"

"How about cricket?" I suggested. "One player grabs the ball and runs with it while everyone else hits him or her with the bats! If the player drops the ball, he or she is out."

Uncle David looked a bit startled. "That's not exactly how it's played. What if we tried football?"

"You mean that game where you grab the black and white ball and try to hit everyone with it?" Jesse asked.

Mr. Basil frowned at Uncle David. "Don't they enjoy any hobbies that don't involve violence?!"

Uncle David thought a moment. "I don't suppose you'd care to go swimming?"

This sounded like a great idea, so we went to a temporary lake, which is what human society refers to as a "puddle," and jumped into the water. (Rena didn't swim with us because she was too young.) Jesse and I got into a splash fight.

Danielle, who was wading at the very edge of the water, rolled her eyes. "Must you? You're getting my hair wet!"

"Lighten up and join the fun!" I accidentally-on-purpose splashed enough water her direction to get her completely soaked.

"Mudlarks!" she exclaimed crossly.

"How come my tail is shorter than yours?" Jesse asked me.

"It's because you're not real mice!" Danielle put in. "I was born like a regular mouse, but you two were adopted."

"There's nothing irregular about adoption," I argued, "and what do you mean by that?"

"Open your eyes, will you?! Your head's a little rounder than mine, your tail isn't at all like that of a mouse, and you're a bit taller than most boys your age! You're a gerbil!"

My eyes began to sting, and my throat suddenly felt tight. "But I don't want to be a gerbil! I just want to be a regular mouse!"

"Well, you're not! As for Jesse, he's a lot rounder than we mice are, and his tail is just a stub. He's a dwarf hamster! Rena's adopted too, but she really is a mouse. Did you really never once think how unusual it is for someone Mother's age to have young children?"

When I asked Uncle David about it later, he pulled me into a hug.

"Ever since you came into your parents' lives, you have been my nephew," he soothed. "Your species doesn't change that, nor does it define your life. Gerbils are different than mice in appearance only, and unlike in the past, all rodents are now equal in the eyes of society."

I considered his words.

"Adoption is rather special," he continued. "Your parents actually ___chose_ you, as they did Jesse and Rena."

"Thanks, Uncle David." I smiled. "You're really good at making others feel better, aren't you?"

He chuckled a little. "I try to be."

Mr. Basil was kind enough to teach us to play chess, saying that he used to play it all the time when he was a boy. It was strange imagining that someone like Mr. Basil was once a young child who liked to play games with his friend.

"Another pastime we enjoyed was a bit of a memory test," he told us. "I would spend an entire minute in a room. When this was completed, I would stroll around the block as Padraic removed one item from the room and hid it elsewhere. Upon my return, I would enter the room and attempt to discover which object was missing and where he had placed it."

Jesse laughed. "It's like he was helping you train to be a defective!"

Mr. Basil frowned a little at Jesse's mispronunciation of his career, but he didn't say anything.

"What happened to your friend?" I queried.

"He fell victim to the Napoleon of Crime. I'm afraid he is no longer with us."

"Did he die?" inquired Jesse.

Mr. Basil nodded a bit sadly. "Not yet a full year past."

"I bet you were the right answer," I commented.

"I beg your pardon?"

"At school, the teacher asked me what was the name of the investigator who was honored during Queen Moustoria's Diamond Jubilee last year, and I got the answer wrong. I said it was Padraic Ratigan."

After supper, I asked Uncle David if he'd ever had to take care of any animals larger than mice.

"Sometimes I help the cat and dog who live upstairs," he responded. "The cat is usually very graceful, able to walk down the most littered alleys without coming to any harm, but once she got a shard embedded in her paw. She stared at me as if she were rather suspicious for some reason, but she kept perfectly still as I tended the paw, and she even purred a little afterwards."

"The purr was to show gratitude," Mr. Basil explained, "but there are only certain individuals she allows to approach her paws, and I'm afraid you don't happen to be one of them. The cat understood that she required your medical assistance, but she wasn't at all delighted with the situation. She has perfectly logical reasons for not allowing rodents near her paws; more specifically, she has perfectly psychological reasons."

"Toby's the complete opposite," Uncle David remarked. "I had to remove a sliver of glass from his paw once, and although he didn't glare at me, he neither remained still nor kept quiet. In fact, Felicia had to pin him down in order for me to help him. Then she rolled her eyes, as if she were ashamed of his cowardice."

Mr. Basil nodded. "Precisely. Her tolerance for pain is nearly as high as her level of mistrust for everyone in general. She fails to understand that some individuals have far lower thresholds for discomfort."


	9. We Go Home

**We Go Home**

When Mother returned the next day, Mr. Basil seemed ecstatic.

"What did you do while you were staying with Uncle David?" Mother asked us.

"Well, we learned a lot about medicine and law," I responded.

Mother smiled her approval. "I must admit you surprised me, Hippo. I expected to see the flat destroyed and the children barefoot in the street, but now I can see my worry was senseless. In fact, I think I may have to start asking you to watch the children more often."

From the look Mr. Basil got on his face, I don't think he liked that idea.

"I'll be glad to watch them any time, Lenora," Uncle David answered.

"You're the best, little brother." Mother tousled his hair.

He frowned, but he decided not to say anything about her condescension. "How was your seminar?"

Mother groaned and rubbed her head. "Just the word 'seminar' is enough to give me a migraine! I'm getting too old for this! I need a month's vacation, preferably somewhere tropical. You could watch the children for an entire month, couldn't you, Hippo?"

Uncle David got a look of horror on his face, causing Mother to succumb to a fit of laughter.

When she finally calmed down, she hugged him. "Thank you, David. I really do appreciate you watching the children. I placed them in your care because I knew you really would be responsible and patient with them."

Yes, believe it or not, Mother actually was nice to Uncle David for a few seconds. If that's not a happy ending, I don't know what is.


End file.
